Inheritance
by Digitaldreamer
Summary: He had made nine of them. Nine creations, each with a specific purpose. Unfortunately, a purpose was all he could do. Everything after that was up to them.
1. Prologue: Purpose

**-Inheritance-**

**A Series of 9 One-Shots by Digitaldreamer**

**Prologue: Purpose**

**---**

_So._

_So I thought I was done with fanfiction. I've been on this site for seven years, I figured it was time to hang up the towel. I thought I was done. No more crazy one shots, no more huge novel-length things written about things that don't belong to me, no more drabbles, nothing._

_Oh, how very wrong I was._

_I saw 9. And I loved the characters. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because the movie provides us with so little that I can't help but fill in the dots. I tried to resist, but my boyfriend kicked my inspiration bug into gear and well... here we are. I actually ended up starting with a crack one-shot, which you can all find easily enough. Now I'm here with my original idea, oh dear. I have many more plans, which definitely can't be good. But I came originally to write character-centeric one shots because I'm a sucker for getting into characters heads, and darn it that's what I'm going to do!_

_So yeah... ah. Hopefully this won't be too awful, I apologize in advance if I took any characters the wrong way. I also apologize if the writing isn't very good, I'm rather rusty after a good year spent away from such things. Here's hoping things aren't so bad!_

_Reviews are greatly appreciated! Please tell me what you think and critique my writing, I could definitely use pointers!_

**TL;DR: **_This will be a series of one-shots centered on each stitchpunk, meant to study each character and "get into their head" if you will. Exciting times._

**Disclaimer: I don't own 9. I'm sure if Shane Acker saw this he would cry and wonder why his brainchildren are being sacrificed to fangirls.**

_---_

He was tired.

In that first instant between waking and sleep, that was all the scientist was aware of. He was so very tired, exhausted in a way that made him feel as if his very bones were fatigued. He would have considered that perhaps this was how a mother felt after giving birth, but the implications of that thought were just a bit too awkward to think about.

It was an awkward thought, but he supposed it was somewhat accurate. These creations were, in a way, his children. His last work, perhaps his greatest technological invention. To give something life... it was something that could only have been dreamed of before. If the world weren't in such a sorry state, he would certainly have received awards for his accomplishment.

This thought, like the previous one, was laughable. It was his fault there was no one left to appreciate his creations, and had he not caused this mess in the first place, he had to wonder if "they" would even have come to exist. It was likely they wouldn't have been, when it came down to it. But there was no more point in musing on "what if".

All that mattered was them now.

He had made them each with a purpose. An overarching hope to make his wrongs right, to keep life on this tiny planet. This was a selfish wish when it came down to it. He had caused this mess, and no act could atone for it, this was something he was well aware of. He could still hope to do something, however.

Unfortunately for his conscience,the hopes of a dying man didn't matter anymore. What was important now was them and what they were, what he had made them to be.

1 was the leader. As the first, it made sense. After all, with such stubbornness, what else could he have been? He'd been made to survive, to be wise, to make the hard decisions and continue to press them all forward through stubborn willpower. He was made to understand the dangers around them and keep those in mind. He had his flaws, as any leader does, but it was the scientist's hope that he would do his duty well.

After 1 had come 2, the inventor. 1 had been made to lead, to make harsh decisions in a dying world. While 1 had been made with survival in mind, 2 was made to inspire. 2 was made to see this world as more than a dying wasteland, 2 was meant to see possibilities.

3 and 4 were meant to hold what was left of this world's story. Often the power of important things like research, like history, were forgotten in troubled times. Those times were the times when such things were most important, and this case was no different. He could not afford for his past mistakes to be forgotten and thus the twins were created.

5 had been something new. The others had sped along into life, but 5 waited. He listened, which was a strength the scientist hadn't expected. It was more of a quiet sort of strength in comparison to the others, something that would probably go unappreciated but it was important to note. 5's purpose was to be the follower, and often the strength it took to follow was one that was too easily taken for granted.

6 had been something else entirely. While the others had fit in naturally, 6 did not. 6 was gifted with something odd. He clearly saw things differently... yet in spite of this when one considered the others this unnaturalness almost seemed natural. The others would see this chaotic world as it was. It would be 6's purpose to direct them to what they couldn't see.

7 had been made to balance them. While the others did seem to naturally drift toward each other, her instinct was different. She was strong, independent, brave. Unlike the others, she was a warrior. She would be distanced from the others, being the only woman, but in a way that suited her. She had to be different to provide that balance, to hold them all together.

8 was the protector. The others in comparison were small, feeble things, even 7 by comparison to the bundle of muscle that was 8. He was not meant to be bright, for there were others for that. His job was just as important, however, and it was the scientist's hope that when he released the bulky creature that he would understand that. The world was a dangerous place, and 8's muscle would be needed.

Eight creatures so far. They were created with something in mind, with a purpose. It was his hope that they would all realize that and stay together, would understand that as pieces of him they could only survive when combined. However, it wasn't his place to tell them this. A large part of life was discovering things for oneself, and if there was anything he had learned over his life, it was that words rarely truly taught anything. If they were to learn, to survive, they would have to do it all on their own. It was nerve-wracking to think that his last hope was no longer truly in his hands, but there was nothing more that could be done.

They were his legacy. Whether they were his last gifts to a dying world or whether he was simply forcing a tarnished inheritance on unfortunate souls, he wasn't sure. He would like to think it was the former, but the pessimist within him said that realistically it was the latter. It was a harsh thing to think and it wasn't terribly fair to them, but it was unavoidable at this point. What was done was done, and there was no more time to reflect on the world he'd shattered.

All that was left now was the aching in his limbs and the work table that he knew was waiting for him.

It was with that thought that he forced himself to rise from his bed one final time, to ignore the way his joints ached and his muscles spasmed. He shrugged the blanket aside and ignored the way ice seemed to crawl back into his body, well aware that no amount of insulation was going to help at this point. Heavy, exhausted footsteps shook through dead air, temporarily blotting out the ringing silence in his ears.

He was so very tired, but he couldn't rest just yet. They weren't complete yet. And whether it was selfish or not to force one more creature to inherit his disgusting mess, the scientist intended to finish what he started. With that in mind, he sat down. Numb fingers reached out for the last scraps of dingy burlap and he began to work.

There was one left.

1 had been the leader.

2 was the inventor.

3 and 4 were the teachers.

5 was the journeyman.

6 was the visionary.

7 was the warrior.

8 was the guardian.

When he finally rested, 9 would be the hero.

**-End-**


	2. I: Rules

**-Inheritance-**

**A Series of 9 One-Shots by Digitaldreamer**

**I: Rules**

**---**

_Annnd this took far longer than I wanted it to. Surprise, writing is a lot harder when you're in college, desperately job-hunting and have only about an hour of free time to write per day. But I set out to do this, and so it will be done, mwahahaha!_

_So right, this is the first of my set of one-shots on each of the stitchpunks. Technically the one before this, The Scientist, is the first, buuut he's a prologue and my true intent was always this so I decided to wait until I could post them together. I'm sure you're thrilled._

_This one is, of course, centered on 1. I can only hope I did a good job! 1 is my favorite character, surprisingly enough. I know he's old and he's a jerk but he's so well developed that I can't help but love him. Hopefully that helped me when it came to comprehending his character, haha._

_So right, do read and please tell me what you think!_

---

He was only trying to protect them.

Or at least, that was how it had started, anyway. He had been trying to protect them, because somehow it just felt like that was what he was supposed to do. It may have partially came out of a sense of pride, something which he struggled with more than he'd like to admit. There was a sense of merely taking what naturally should have been his right from birth. He had come first, after all, and it was the duty of the eldest to protect the younger. He knew this world better than any of them. And how could he not? He had been there the longest.

He had been there the longest and he saw things differently from the rest of them, something that could be downright frustrating most of the time. When 2 looked at the world, he saw possibilities. 3 and 4 couldn't seem to _focus_ on the real world, their tiny lenses always seeming to zero in on whatever information could be found in pages around them. 5 was too much of a nervous wreck to really peek out from behind 2 and _see_ the world in front of him. 6 was in another realm entirely most of the time, he was useless when it came to survival. 7 was needlessly reckless, 8 was too thick-headed to truly understand in spite of his loyalty.

So that meant 1 was alone.

Only 1 seemed to understand just how dangerous the entire situation was. He looked out at their world and he saw it for what it _was_, cold, bleak, and unfair. It was a bitter, pessimistic image, but _someone _had to be realistic here. People did not survive by the words of a wide-eyed idealist alone, and 1 understood that. The humans certainly hadn't survived, after all! One of them had to see those mistakes and make sure their strange group didn't follow the same path. Perhaps this came from having seen their world the longest, from seeing the humans at their worst before they vanished in the blink of an eye. Or perhaps he'd just been born with it... but regardless, it was there and it was vital. Yes, it was important to not lose hope, to look out and find ways to make things better... but someone had to look out and see the picture as it was.

He was only trying to protect them.

The others didn't seem to recognize that. He supposed in a way this was fitting. If he was meant to be the leader, then the others really didn't need to see the world as he did. It was his duty to keep it all together, to make the decisions, while they followed and did as they pleased. It was fitting, but it didn't make it any less frustrating when things happened as he should have expected they would.

Children never listened, after all.

This was a fact he'd known from the beginning, and in a way, that was what the others were. The others were children, and someone had to be the adult here. Someone had to make the rules, someone had to put limitations on things. Someone had to make sure they stayed _alive. _That meant leading them, that keeping them all together, that meant staying where it was safe. That meant going against desires to go outside, that meant standing against moments of stupid bravery, that meant keeping them where he _could _protect them.

7 called him a coward more than once. It was a harsh title, but 1 was willing to admit it was rather fitting. Whether he wanted to protect them all or not, he was, admittedly, terrified. The world they lived in was an awful place, and in knowing that, who wouldn't be scared? 1 understood this world for what it was, and both what he knew and the many things he didn't know terrified him. He was scared and so he kept 8 there. 8 had been built to guard them and 1 intended to use that. He supposed it was selfish, but it was only natural to have flaws.

He had more flaws than he'd like to admit, really. His main intentions were to protect, they always had been, but he couldn't deny that like any living creature he had a selfish desire to stay alive. When he really considered it, that didn't mix well with pride, which he had an overabundance of. Those two things combined rather easily into a lust for power, something 1 was well aware he stubbornly pursued. It simply wasn't something he could help. A part of him appreciated being followed, appreciated power, and that was where the staff and the cape came in. He was selfish and he was prideful. He supposed in that way, for all of his bitterness against them, he was more human than he'd like to admit. But really, who could blame him? He was prideful, he was sometimes selfish, he did occasionally overdo it, but he was right! Was it so wrong for him to have some pride? After all, he was clever, he was the one who held them all together and surely he deserved something for all of his efforts! So what if he got pleasure from being right and for doing his job? That was how it was meant to be! The others called him stubborn and he was aware that he was, but was it so wrong to be stubborn if he was right in the end? He was right, he always had been! He was the smart one, he was the one who understood, and if they all simply listened to him they would remain safe.

He was only trying to protect them.

But of course, they didn't listen. They didn't just refuse to listen, they fought him at every opportunity they could get. They ignored his wise words and they went out and got hurt. They ignored him and they ventured out and endangered the group, they ignored him and they risked their lives more than was necessary. This was why they had rules. They had rules, and 1 expected them to be followed. Was that really so much to ask? He supposed that yes, he was selfish on occasion and prideful, and he knew he enjoyed giving orders, but it couldn't be helped! His orders were intended to keep them alive, and if they simply listened... but of course, they didn't.

They didn't listen, and so he was harsh. He was harsh because he had to be. He enjoyed the feeling of power, yes, and oh what a horrid flaw that was, but if they had listened there would be so much less of a dilemma. If they had just followed the rules he wouldn't have had to resort to yelling, he wouldn't have had to resort to scaring them. If they listened he wouldn't have to resort to using 8 like a bouncer, using 8's terrifying power with grim effectiveness. If they had just listened, if they would just stop arguing... it made him angry a lot, really. 7 called him stubborn, 7 glared at him and it was so very clear that she hated him, but he was _right_. If they had just listened to him these things wouldn't happen!

He was only trying to protect them.

Of course they couldn't understand that, but he supposed that was why he was here. Someone had to make the hard decisions. Someone had to be smart and realize the truth. Someone had to view the world for the horrors it was and keep them all safe. Someone had to keep the rules in place, someone had to keep them all alive somehow. Someone had to understand where ideals were just that, ideals, and reality had to kick in. That meant being stubborn, that meant not bending even when they all glared and raged at him. That meant enduring the fact that every day, even long after the war, was going to be a battle for dominance that he would have to win. That meant keeping them all together in an iron fist, That meant constantly fighting for strict compliance, that meant making sure they followed his orders to the letter so they stayed alive.

And yes, sometimes that meant making sacrifices. Sometimes that meant understanding when to let go, to realize that losing one wasn't nearly as bad as losing all eight. Sometimes that meant enduring the fact that he was leaving someone to potentially die, because if he didn't he'd lose more.

He made the hard decisions, because if he didn't he'd lose all of them, and that was more than he could bear to think of.

So he endured it. He endured 7's glares and scowls, endured their constant arguments that always ended with him struggling to keep her rebellious spirit where it belonged. He endured the way 3 and 4 cowered from him, the way 5 cringed at the sound of his voice. He endured 6's sad eyes as he desperately tried to smash those wild ideas and keep the strange stitchpunk's head where it belonged. He endured the whispers that 2 would have been a better choice for the leader, tried to stamp down the bits of bitter jealousy as the inventor shot him a look of sympathy. He endured the fact that no amount of ranting was really going to make 8 understand, though he'd take the larger stitchpunk's presence for what it was. He endured it and admittedly he grew bitter, he grew frustrated, but he still tried.

It was hard, but someone had to do it.

And so as he holds up yet another one of 6's drawings and sees the way the other stitchpunk cowers, he does his best to ignore it. Again the harsh words spring from his lips and the anger at his rules being ignored bubbles up against his will. Again 7 comes to 6's aid and again he finds himself yelling, his voice echoing through the church as he gives what he's well aware is a futile sermon. There's a loud tear as ink-soaked parchment is ripped to shreds, pieces drifting to the floor as 6 gapes at them like a kicked puppy.

If his decisions meant they would be hurt, so be it. If it meant he had to fight them, so be it. He was right in the end, and even if they didn't understand that, at least they were still alive. If it were up to him and his rules, it would stay that way. He keep them in an iron fist and they would struggle but it was for the best in the end. If they hated him for it, so be it.

He tells himself this as he hears 6 whimpering, hears 7 trying to comfort him, feels her hate-filled glare against his back. He feels it and he does his best to accept it as necessary, to turn those feelings to what he'd sure must be righteous irritation. If they went against the rules meant to protect he'd do what he must, because someone had to. If they had to hate him in return, then so be it.

After all, he was only trying to protect them.

---

**End**


	3. II: Possibilities

**-Inheritance-**

**A Series of 9 One-Shots by Digitaldreamer**

**II: Possibilities**

**---**

_Well, I'm sure you'd all much rather see me update Track Listing, but darnit, I came into this fandom to write crazy character studies, so that is what I'm going to do!_

_...Yes, I know none of you care. Shut up._

_So right, this one is for 2... you know, obviously. He was considerably harder to write for than 1 since we see very little of him, but I do enjoy his character. I think the relationship he has with the others is very interesting, he strikes me as the awesome grandfather type. What I find especially compelling is the relationship between him and 1 since they're both so old. Considering 1 sent out 2 to die, it seems to me there must be an interesting history there that I'd like to write on someday._

_But no, not today. Today our focus is just 2 and his awesomeness. Hopefully I got the old guy right, let me know!_

---

There were possibilities everywhere.

That was the first thing 2 had realized when he'd come into being. His golden-rimmed optics had gazed across the cluttered room the scientist called home, and almost instantly things began to come together. Objects that to others seemed like little more than nick-nacks were pieces of a puzzle to him. Each could be used for something new, could be combined. From the ashes of something old, something new could always be created. The world was a mess, of course, but in that mess there was always something useful and good to be found.

He and 1 had never really agreed when it came to matters like that.

Really though, he and 1 had never entirely agreed, though it was rare that they openly argued. It was something 2 found interesting, the way they had been born mere days apart and yet could be so fantastically opposite. When 1 looked to the sky, he saw nothing but dark, looming, ominous clouds. 2 not only saw the silver-lining, he saw a way to take it down so he could tinker with it and make some sort of new gadget.

Their differences were not something 2 ever bemoaned his elder brother for. After all, if they had been made exactly the same, what would the point have been? 1 would grumble on and on about how no one understood, but 2 was glad for their differences. Being different and finding a way to see how those differences fit together was a part of what made this world so interesting, after all. He and 1 would discuss it again and again, 1's voice raising to a shout while 2 had simply smiled. The world was dangerous, yes, but it was so much more than that. The world was not just about surviving, it was about thriving, it was about looking out and finding a way to make things better. It was about keeping your chin up and trying to spot the little things, trying to improve! It was about seeing the possibilities and pushing forward.

1 had never really understood that... but 2 supposed that was alright. The world took all types, after all, and they did need a leader. It had been clear from the beginning who that would be, whether it was due to stubbornness or wisdom. 2 had been willing to stand aside and let 1 do his job. After all, the inventor was aware he really wasn't leader material. The others would argue, but 2 knew better. He would bow and let 1 do his job, though of course he'd argue when it was necessary. He had no intention of being walked all over, it had always only been to help, never to take what wasn't his. He had his own place, and it wasn't on that overly elaborate throne.

That was perfectly fine, since 2 had his own job.

And so he tried. While 1 focused on protecting them, harshly if necessary, 2 strived to make their world better. He began to put things together, his eyes always bright, always seeking out something new that could be used to make their lives easier. A bucket and some string made an elevator, a cigar box and a pin cushion made a bed, a candle and a spoon made a useful hat! He couldn't help but be excited every time they came back from exploring the emptiness with new things, showing the others with an exuberance that could only be matched by the twins and their books.

But of course, there were more possibilities than those of the world around him. The things he created were important enough, but what were they without the individuals around him?

5 was brilliant, of course. Brilliant but shy and unsure, and it was 2 who did his best to work with the one-eyed stitchpunk. He slowly coaxed 5 from his broken shell, did what he could to teach him all the older stitchpunk knew. He tried to build 5 up, to help him understand that he was so much more than a burden. The twins were brilliant as well but withdrawn within their world of pages and text. It was 2 who got their attention, his genuine interest in their knowledge persuading them to share, to teach him what he himself could not understand. 6 was something entirely different, of course, and it was 2 who observed that this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He eagerly tried to get 6 to connect with the rest of them, excitedly glancing over each drawing and trying to decipher the meaning behind the artistic stitchpunk's cryptic words. 7 was powerful but rebellious and hotheaded, and it was 2 who did his best to reign her in, who tried his best to make her see that violence wasn't always the answer. He even did his best with 8, using his talents to craft armor and weapons for their simple-minded defender even as the large stitchpunk blinked in confusion at his long-winded explanations.

He saw them all as individuals, individuals with personalities and strengths and weaknesses... and above all else, possibilities. And so, true to his nature, he did what he could to help them all see that. He was always there to talk to, always willing to set whatever he was working with aside so he could help. He was always there to listen, was always there to offer bits of advice and help them see the right path. He was always there to argue with 1 when it was really necessary, always there to help. While 1 was there to protect them and to provide the bigger picture, it was 2 who always helped them see the reasoning behind it, 2 who inspired them to see individual talents.

He supposed he wasn't surprised when it began to catch up with him. He had carefully inspected the others and how they were built, and he knew for a fact he was not as well built as they were. It was the natural law of things, he and 1 were the oldest, and so as time wore on they were the first to show the weight of age. And of course, while 1 spent his days seated on a massive throne, 2 had been working. He had worked and worked, and of course the old stitchpunk supposed his chronic bad luck on his and 5's numerous adventures into the emptiness hadn't helped. While 1 merely showed signs of a bad back, 2 quickly began to show signs of fading away.

He was getting old and he was quite aware of it. Even so, he made the best of it. He continued with his job in spite of everything, even as he found his fingers weren't as nimble as they used to be. He began to wear his glasses lens more often as his vision faded. He made a cane for walking around, excusing it with claims of poor balance in spite of the fact that he'd never really had problems before. He began to subtly push 5 toward doing more things on his own. He continued to work and try to make things better even as his joints creaked and ached, even as he grew weaker and weaker and others begged him to rest.

He had a job to do. He wasn't going to let something like age stop him.

He kept going. He continued to try to encourage them all with words and actions, continued to put things together, continued to try. However, it couldn't be denied that this was starting to become more of a hinderance than a help. He did his best on his own, but it was growing increasingly clear that age was catching up with him. He did his best to compensate but having the others do simple tasks for him was becoming unavoidable. He couldn't work with his own inventions as well as he used to, and when he and 5 went on scouting missions they very nearly didn't return simply because the older stitchpunk could not keep up.

At last there was no getting around it. He was holding them back. The older stitchpunk had to admit that to himself as he finally had to step back and let 5 do the job for him. He was getting old and weak, and there was simply no denying that in their dwindling numbers it was hardly an asset.

He supposed that was alright, however. As he watched 5 go through all the motions with ease, as he watched 6 begin to venture out of his corner with more wild hope in his mismatched eyes, it became clear he wasn't needed like he used to be. 7 and the twins were already gone, as the inventor had expected they would... and that was alright, because he knew they were out there doing as they should. He'd pushed them toward their purpose and now he had to trust that they could take care of themselves. He had to trust that they had all seen his vision and could follow the path he'd set now.

And so, when 1 finally gave the order for what they both knew was not just a simple scouting mission, the old stitchpunk felt oddly calm.

5 didn't think it, but 2 knew he had taught him all he could. 7 and the twins had followed their own paths and he was glad for it. 6 was breaking out of his own little world. 8 was strong, and while 2 wasn't entirely pleased with how the large stitchpunk handled things, he knew 8 would keep them all safe. And 1, of course... 1 was just doing what he thought was best. Perhaps there was more to it than that, but 2 wasn't the type to go picking at darker motives when he knew there was some good behind it.

It was the duty of the eldest to allow the younger generation to surpass them when they weren't needed anymore. 2 supposed he was alright with that.

And so when he gazed out at the ruins of a broken world, the soft golden rays of sunset reflecting off of shattered legacies, 2 wasn't scared. The others didn't really need him... and besides, he trusted them. If he was really still needed, if he really knew them like he thought he did, he was sure he'd see them again anyway. There was really no point in worrying about them, or what would happen to him. Certainly, there were monsters, and certainly he was a bit scared of that, but what was that fear in comparison to all that stood before him? He had done all he could do... now all that was left was the unknown, really.

He'd never thought The Emptiness was a proper term for their world anyway.

With that thought 2 gave a smile and pulled his lens into place, his aged hand tightening around his cane and wagon of nicknacks. Slowly, carefully, he made his way out into the world, a few simple words on his lips.

"Possibilities, old chap. Possibilities."

**-End-**


End file.
